Decision
by Alicia Pascal
Summary: The friendship between Gimli and Legolas is very unique – unheard of some say, as it grew despite old feuds, distrust and dislike. There is hope that it can be the beginning of a new understanding between their peoples, or perhaps that is too optimistic?
1. Chapter 1

**FOREWORD**

The friendship between Gimli and Legolas is a very unique one – unheard of some might say, since it grew despite old feuds, distrust and dislike. There might be hope that it can be the beginning of a new understanding between elves and dwarves, or perhaps that thought is too optimistic?

**DECISION**

Thranduil, troubled and resolute in the way that seemed to be so much a part of his nature, turned with a swish of green robes to one of his aides. "I hear the grumbles, and see the efforts my people make to accommodate my son's…guest. I will act now. Keep the Dwarf out of my sight. But go find Legolas. It is time to settle this matter." He waited for the door of his throne room to be opened smoothly by the stoic-faced door guard. Once the door was wide, Thranduil turned from his aide and entered the room. There he strode across the polished stone floor and ascended his official Dais as King of Mirkwood. It was symbolic of his office, and he desired to use all his power to his benefit. He spoke again to his accompanying aide. "Send for Legolas."

Legolas was not hard to find, for if he himself did not draw enough attention, his company definitely did. Gimli was presently giving the stonework of the stronghold a thorough examination and Legolas watched with amusement and some amount of pride as his friend nodded in approval here, grunted in admiration there, and in general showed good interest in the Elf's home.

"My Lord Legolas?"

Legolas turned, not very surprised, for he had heard the aide's approach. Gimli, on the other hand, needed a moment to look exactly in the right direction after drawing his eyes away from the stone.

"You father, Lord Thranduil, wishes to speak with you. He awaits you in the throne room."

Now that Gimli was watching his friend instead of stonework he could see that Legolas was hesitating for a moment, but then apparently decided that it was better to comply with the King's wishes. So, they agreed to continue the tour of the stronghold later and together hurried for the throne room, where Legolas was surprised to be stopped by the guards.

"The Dwarf will have to stay here."

"His name is Gimli. And he is my guest." This was a sentence that Legolas had repeated many times already these days, and usually he had been given his way, although in many cases with obvious reluctance. In this case, however, it did not help. "This is the King's order. He will have to wait here."

Legolas was just taking a deep breathe to set his authority against the guard's possibly very simple and perhaps not too specific orders when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Let it go, lad," Gimli said. "I will wait. These pillars will keep me good company."

Legolas blinked and hesitated, but then he nodded. "Very well. Call for me if you need anything." A moment later the guard at the doors swung them open and Legolas strode into the throne room with long, sure steps. He crossed to the dais and stood at the foot of the steps. "You wished to see me?"

Thranduil had waited with false calm for his son to come to him. Now, after he held himself still awhile after Legolas stood before him. He did not invite him up onto the dais. "Green Leaf. Why do you go against so much tradition, so many of my own wishes?" he finally asked.

Legolas blinked. "I am not sure that I follow. What wishes do you speak of? I do not recall having received any orders."

Thranduil gazed at his son, and the frown was in his voice, rather than on his face. "You know how I feel about Dwarves, and yet you bring one right into my own home. Is that not defiance of the tradition of this realm? Dwarves are not welcome here, and this you know."

Legolas met his father's gaze evenly although his jaw set a bit more firmly. "He is not just any Dwarf. He is my companion and my friend, and has proven to be worthy and faithful many times. I would think that should warrant an exception. At the beginning of a new age, old feuds should be put to rest."

Thranduil kept his seat, although he shifted slightly on his throne. "Legolas. I have no feud with this dwarf, and I admit he served well and did good. But he is not Elven, and the rift between Elf and Dwarf is not settled. The recent War was against great evil seeking dominion over us all, and it is ended. But not all conflicts end in one stroke. You know this." Thranduil leaned forward slightly. "Your judgment I challenge. Companions were chosen for you, but your friendships have never so startled me. You dishonor yourself in your rash judgment. You dishonor your people, and harm their need for contentment. And you dishonor your father."

"Rash?" Perhaps at first Legolas might have been willing to listen to Thranduil's reasoning. Some things did take time, but now he felt like he had to defend himself from an unfair attack. In that, he felt his temper rise, but restrained it into nothing more than a balled fist. "I did not cast my judgment blindly. I made my decision after months of watching, listening, after knowing him. We fought alongside each other. He saved my life and I saved his. Is that not enough to give him a chance? That is all I ask. A century old feud cannot end in one day, possibly, but is it asked too much to at least be open enough to accept the possibility?" At this point Legolas had to stop for air, which then slowed down his speech again considerably, and his voice became calmer again. "I brought him here that he might grow in understanding of the Elves, see my home, and appreciate the beauty of it. Do not prove me a liar by destroying this beauty with cold obstinacy."

At this, Thranduil slowly stood, now towering above his son. "I find no beauty in having a son thrust upon me the presence of a Dwarf. I thank him for saving your life, as I am sure many other of your companions did as well. Yet you do not bring them. You bring the one who most challenges us. You should have waited, Legolas," said Thranduil, with a little more familiarity. "I prove nothing about Elvendom except what we would find if we walked in like manner into a Dwarven sanctum. Therefore, 'cold obstinacy' are words ill considered!" Thranduil descended from the dais. He stood beside Legolas. "I want you to send him away."

"I cannot do that." Legolas had bee thinking about explaining that Gimli had not simply 'walked in here', but had been invited and so far behaved in every way as a guest should. But in the end these four words were all that he could say. Surely Thranduil would see.

Courtesy and reason demanded it.

Thranduil stiffened his stance. "Are you my son, and a son of Mirkwood?"

"I am," Legolas said evenly, but with pride.

"Then do as I ask."

For several heartbeats there was silence. Legolas did not know what to reply, and when he did something rare had happened. His voice had become pleading. "Father. All I ask if one week. Gimli is my guest and he will not trouble you. Afterwards you can judge him by what you have seen, and we will leave if you wish. One week, no more. Please."

Thranduil stood tall, in fact just a little taller than his son, while yet the height difference seemed expanded. He came down from the throne, for he had heard the plea in Legolas' voice. Yet his heart remained unmoved.

"That a dwarf is your guest--and only the dwarf, for no other of your companions did you bring--troubles me. You have chosen ill in this friendship, and this does deeply trouble me." These words were spoken as a father to a son, but the next words were those of the King. "Send him away now. And you I offer this choice: return to the house of your Father a wiser Elf, or leave it now, for talk is rife if quietly whispered, and your place and wisdom are being questioned. Either the Dwarf goes and you stay, or you both go. This is the choice I give you."

Legolas' jaw dropped and he was silent for a moment. He felt like he was hitting a wall in full run. Leave the hourse of Thranduil would mean he was practically expelled from the family, and if tradition help true it would be as if he never existed. This could not be, this could not be happening! His father was demanding him to chose between his friendship and his family, and without even knowing Gimli, all because of an old grudge. The situation was unreal, and overwhelming in its sigificance. Although it was obvious that Thranduil was not going to relent Legolas made another deserate try. "One day. Give me just one day, please."

Thranduil's temper showed, but he checked it somewhat. He knew what he was demanding, and he expected Legolas to obey him, not...beg. "One more day for rumors to become that much more deeply entrenched?" He shook his head. "I deny your request. Choose, and choose now. Obey me."

Legolas' lips moved, but without a sound. This was a choice he could not make, even if he wanted to. Not now, not with matter flung at him so suddenly. In this moment he felt more lost than ever before in his life.

But indeed it was not really a choice, but an order - with the detailed knowledge of what the punishment for failing to obey the order would be. Again the injustice of the situation hit him, made worse by the fact that his father did not even see the injustice. His eyes dropped to the floor, and when he looked up again were filled with the desperation of someone who did not know what to do. He was torn in a way that made him feel like he would burst any moment. Again his lips moved, with as little effect as before. His usual proud and tall stance wavered, and suddenly without even one word he turned and hurried out of the throne room the way he had come. Past the astonished guards and an even more astonished dwarf he went but did not see any of them. His long legs were eating up the distance when he hurried down several corridors, and finally broke into a run without even knowing where he went. Somewhere secluded...

tbc...(faster with reviews)


	2. Chapter 2

Decision, Chapter 2 

It was uncommon for Gimli, son of Gloin, to wish he understood Sindarin. Only a year before he would have snorted indignantly at the very idea of such a thought. But now he wished for it, for it did not take elven ears to hear the voices through the doors that it seemed no one had bothered to close or ordered closed, and that he had slowly moved closer to until he – being seemingly ignored and yet fully disapproved of by the guards – was now waiting in front of. He wished even more fervently that he could understand what was happening since he had at least once heard his name, and a very uncharacteristic amount of desperation in Legolas' voice.

Just what he needed, something else to worry about. Ever since they had come here to this – he had to admit – nice place, with the stonework to make a dwarf happy and the forest to keep Legolas smiling, there had been a constant pressure on the Dwarf's mind. Of course, he had been prepared for it, or so he had thought, but Gimli had underestimated the discomfort of being constantly watched, standing out, the whispers, the looks. It was only Legolas' presence that made him stay and endure it all with as much grace as he could.

Gimli was just wondering how long this might last until either he or the Elves gave up and some form of truce was called when he suddenly had to jump back to avoid being run down by Legolas. The look on his friend's face was just as one would have expected after hearing the desperation in his voice earlier.

"What is wrong? Lad…"

But the Elf did not even seem to hear, or if he did he did not listen. By the time Gimli was over the surprise, Legolas was almost out of sight.

"Legolas, wait!"

Gimli set off at a run, following his friend, who, although he was not running, still had a good head start and the long legs that would make it hard for the Dwarf to catch up.

Thranduil appeared in the doorway only moments later, and his eyes followed the direction where first his son and then Gimli had disappeared. He looked angry, and...puzzled.

The chase, if one would call it such, lasted only a few minutes. It wound its way through several corridors, downwards and ever deeper into the heart of the mountain that housed the stronghold. Soon the carefully hewn stonework, beautiful sculptures and adorned walls and ceilings gave way to empty gray tunnels, with less and less light reaching here, for the torches in sconces went from frequently spaced to farther and farther apart to none at all.

Legolas knew these tunnels were not even used anymore. In fact, Legolas did not know why they had been built in the first place. He thought they were most likely for storage, or for the purpose of providing shelter in times of danger. In his youth he had sometimes come here to play hide and seek, to have the kind of adventures in the dark that children of all races seem to dream up, or to simply enjoy the challenge of finding his way through here.

These tunnels were not particularly confusing in their layout, but without light and landmarks to go by, even a few branchings were enough to result in someone becoming lost. Legolas, however, did not lose his way, even though he would not have cared if he had. He simple ran, until a wall stopped him and he ended up leaning against it, breathing heavily – not from the effort of running, but from the effects of the tumult in his mind. That did not matter either. No one would see him here, ask questions, or expect a certain posture from him. Down here there were no eyes on him, no expectations. He could be himself…

And that was when – it seemed like the first time – he heard Gimli's call.

Gimli's mood had gone down rapidly during the last few minutes. Running after an Elf who seemed deaf as well as stubborn would have made him mad beyond belief if it had not been for the worry that only grew stronger the further he followed his friend down into the dark passages beneath the mountain.

This was not like Legolas, not like the Legolas he knew, and after all they had been through together he fancied he knew him very well.

But what was he doing here? Running blindly after an Elf he had long lost sight of? Most of the time the tunnels had run in a straight line, and for once Legolas was not quiet in his steps, so Gimli had been able to stay on his trail. But now there was no way to tell. He stood in a crossroad that was shaped almost as a small round chamber with no less than five tunnels leading in different directions.

In a hurry and without any system Gimli checked several of those tunnels, but he could not pick up the slightest sound from Legolas. Yet, that turned out not to be his biggest problem, because after a few moments of hurried search he realized that in his worry and agitation he had forgotten to keep track of where he had come from in the first place.

A curse almost as old as the world itself escaped him. He, a Dwarf at home underground, was lost.

He huffed in and released several deep breaths before uttering a single word. "Legolas?"

Oh, this call had some cost in pride, but there was no way around it, and at second thought perhaps this was what was needed to finally get the Elf's attention back – if his voice could reach wherever Legolas had gone.

"Legolas, you had better hear me because I am only going to say this once. I need your help. I can hardly see anything down here, and I am lost and I would like to get out of here alive and I hate wet feet!"

Indeed, the ground was covered with an ankle-high layer of dark water, which in the dim light looked forbidding, as if the next step could lead one into the abyss of a deep underground lake.

"Legolas? You stupid Elf, answer me!"

In any other situation Legolas might have smiled and thought up a fitting reply for the insult, but not now. He felt too...empty. But he turned his head and raised his voice to something that could almost be called a call.

"I am here."

Indeed, he could hear Gimli stomping around, splashing water, and since he knew that it would be difficult for the Dwarf to get a bearing on the direction he repeated the call, until he could hear his friend stomp closer. My friend, I wished for soltitude, yet I cannot bear to send you away.

However, he did nothing to acknowlege Gimli's presence either. He continued leaning against the cold wall while his thoughts continued to run in circles.

Gimli stood still, trying not to wiggle his toes in the water that covered his feet and made him quite thoroughly miserable, for the truth was that the actions of the Elf worried him beyond the misery of having wet feet in a dark cavern he was lost in under an Elven realm. He would have liked to sit down, but thought the better of that as wet feet were not nearly as uncomfortable as a wet sitter-downer. So he waited, and tried to figure an approach that would help to ease his friend's suffering.

Finally, after so long a silence, he thought he could hear the leather of his boots stretching and his toes taking on the aspects of wrinkled prunes, he spoke. "Tell me what happened, Lad. I heard my name."

At first it seemed like there was not going to be an answer, but then Legolas took a deep breath and turned enough that he faced toward Gimli, even though he was still leaning against the wall. "You are right, we talked about you, and your presence here. It was just like we had feared." At this point Legolas nearly smiled at the memory of the long talks he and Gimli had had during the long journey north, playing through various scenarios of what might happen. But back then it had all been in jest.

The short moment passed as quickly as it had come, though, and the darkness that clutched at Legolas' heart returned. "It was almost exactly like we had expected. Almost." Another long moment of silence ensued, but then the Elf started to recall the whole scene, just like it had happened, and translated his father's words painfully accurately. "And he was serious, Gimli. He fully means it. I…I do not know what to do." Once again Legolas shook his head, as if the movement could jumble his thoughts and they might then fall into a helpful pattern.

Gimli alternately reddened and paled, unseen in the lack of light and because Legolas was not looking in his direction fully anyway. He did manage to keep his fists from balling, but his fingers twitched in a way that would suggest he was making an effort he usually did not. He also swallowed a rather succinct curse, and then gave a cough as it tried to go down the wrong way. "Well Lad," he finally said, sighing, which was a loud sound in a Dwarf. "Twas worse than we imagined, but not such a hard blow as we cannot duck it and be no the worse for wear. I will wait for you on the edge of the Forest, and when you finish visiting here and seeing yer friends again, I'll be there, with a meal cooked and possibly a dead Orc or two for decor. I will even find you some fruits and those ve-ge-ta-bles you favor, though no asking for me to fetch those mushrooms you and the Hobbits all like. I have ta draw the line somewhere. Now, show me out of this...place, and I'll be a friend to ye and not make ye choose."

At this Legolas shook his head violently again, and the movement was clearly visible in the darkness, and then something happened that Gimli had not seen before either: Legolas started pacing, which made for a strange scene in the low water. "No, Gimli. It is...not...that...easy. You see, if I just give in, and you leave, then my father would find ways of keeping me here for months at least. That would be a long lonely wait for you, back in the forest. What is even worse, he would have won!"

Now, slowly, the body language that Gimli was used to returned to the Elf and Legolas looked more and more the fighter again, one who did not give up easily. It was impossible to tell in the darkness whether there was the determined gleam in his eyes, but Gimli fancied that it was quite likely. "Word would spread how quickly I 'came to my senses' as soon as I was among my own kind again, and in the end things would be worse than before, because this would reinforce the old belief that Dwarves are not to be trusted and better stay far away from us. And I would have to live with that, hiding the truth of my feelings, and that would be betraying both my people and our friendship. No Gimli, I cannot do that."

Gimli nodded slowly, digesting the feelings behind the words. It was a tangle, to be sure. Yet Gimli felt a strong wave of warmth spread through him that Legolas was so sure of their friendship, that it meant enough to him that he was not willing to give it up. Gimli reached up and gave the Elf's nearest arm a squeeze. "Ye honor me," he said, and then said gruffly. "Then let us go back to face your father, and I will either talk some sense into him or end up in the dungeon like my father did, for I will no let him treat his son like a dog he can kick around. Lad, lead on. I plan to get your father's fine carpets nice and wet with Dwarven footprints."

Usually this manner of speech would have brought laughter to Legolas, and even in this situation the Elf responded with a short chuckle. Even though his smile did not show in the darkness it could be heard in his voice when he spoke. "Very well my friend, I will lead you out of the caves, since your legendary Dwarven sense for orientation underground seems to have failed you." Even though the thought of facing his father, and especially the thought of Gimli having words with him made Legolas shudder, he knew that they would have to do it sooner or later. With the alternative being staying down here, getting wetter feet, sooner seemed to be preferable.

So Legolas lead the way back up again, through tunnels, and up a number of stairs, without much hurry, but with no easily obvious hesitation either. What was coming was unavoidable. Together they had faced Mordor's army at the Black Gates; they would be able to get through this.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Legolas ignored the raised brows of the guards when he and Gimli passed them, leaving two trails of wet footprints, even though the worst water had already dripped off further back. He also ignored the pounding in his heart and the lump that was forming in his throat the closer they got to the throne room. If not for Gimli at his side and the knowledge that hesitation would only make matters worse he might have sought to delay the whole confrontation once again.

The scene in front of the throne room turned out almost a repetition of the one earlier – almost.

"The Dwarf will have to stay here."

"His name is Gimli. He will come with me."

"The King's orders are…"

"...my concern, thank you."

With that Legolas passed the guards, who did not feel ready to stop the prince with more than their words.

Of course Thranduil had heard the commotion, and wondered about it, and so had quickly (without seeming to rush) taken his place on the highest dais, his gilded and graceful Throne. If the Dwarf was to enter, he would feel even shorter than those stocky legs in fact made him.

Thranduil stiffened his posture into what could most accurately be called "hostile" and simply, silently waited for his son to speak. The Dwarf he only looked at with his outermost peripheral vision. Yet, inwardly, he wondered what this meeting would bring. He was loath to alienate his son, but unwilling to accept this...Dwarf...in his kingdom.

Legolas stopped in exactly the same spot where he had stood before and spoke without waiting to be acknowledged - which he knew would not come anyway. He knew his father, and his body language, especially his various postures when sitting on the throne glaring down at someone.

"Father, Gimli agreed to leave," he began, but continued too fast to give anyone time to react to this statement. "However, I told him not to, for it would not change anything. The choice you gave me might sound like one, but it is no more than the difference between death by knife or death by sword, both driven through the heart. I refuse to answer." This was a bold and very straightforward approach, and into it was poured all the desperation, love, friendship, but also resolve that he felt. It did not fail to have effect.

Legolas' statement about choices between methods of death shocked Thranduil so much that for a moment he stilled, stiffened, and his brows drew together while seemingly for an instant to have climbed higher than his hairline. "Legolas--" he said, and paused. There was more to this friendship than he had suspected, and for the first time, he actually gave Gimli a long look before turning back to Legolas. He rose gracefully and descended to stand by his son's side. He even reached out a hand and rested it on Legolas' shoulder. "Son." He was struggling in his mind, and felt a shifting taking place, or...an uncomfortable changing, or perhaps it was that he realized he had to bend here a little, and did not like it. Yet, if he refused, he might indeed lose his son.

"Legolas," he said, and his voice was not that of a King, but a Father.

"Tell me why you are friends with this Dwarf. I will listen this time."

"His name is Gimli," Legolas said almost out of reflex, but then there was a moment of silence, during which he looked first at Thranduil and then at Gimli. At length he spoke again, although his voice was soft, and his words came slow, as if his thoughts were still busy elsewhere.

"Nay, I will not tell you. This cannot be explained with words, and it should not have to be. He is simply one of the finest persons I have met, and if you would but make the effort to look you would see for yourself. I will show you, though, if given the time."

Thranduil's mouth stiffened, and he was not pleased by the answer, although he did digest it and it gave him stomach pains. "You have shown me, but I did not like what I saw. I did not want to look at it, and so I refused." He sighed, an unusual sound for him to make. "Gimli." He said the name as if testing it. "I would speak with Gimli," he said to Legolas. "You need not leave. Indeed, I would have you stay, for otherwise I might forget that I am trying to be a father and not a King who does not tolerate Dwarves."

Legolas smiled, feeling thankful and relieved beyond words, and finally it showed. His shoulders slumped for a moment until he straightened and bright eyes looked at Thranduil with the love that was hidden all too often, when royal duties and proper conduct got in the way. "Thank you, Father. I will stay, and watch - but in silence so you see and hear only what is there, not what I tell you is there." With that he for a moment put a hand on Thranduil's arm, and squeezed Gimli's shoulder, before he stepped back, just out of the immediate field of vision.

Thranduil took in a deep breath and gave his son the most subtle 'wish me luck' look, and then turned to the Dwarf. And looked down, but not at his eyes. "Um," he said. "You wish some food? Or wine?" Why did the King of Mirkwood feel so awkward, he asked himself, and then he answered his own question. Because I am offering hospitality to a Dwarf! "Um," he repeated. "How do you find the...accommodations? I hope you are..." Valar this was difficult! "Comfortable?"

Gimli did not smile particularly much, and in fact came right out with himself, for he felt that to hide from this Elf would do Legolas an injustice. "Aye, the stonework is of adequate quality, and the motifs are interesting, and pleasing to the eye. But as for my comfort, if ye mean the bed, tis huge and yet the right hardness and softness at the same time, and the food has been well enough tolerated by my digestion, with the exception of the mushrooms which are a mystery to me why they are eaten, and I be not fond of pheasant." He looked Thranduil in the eyes now. "But if ye mean my mental comfort, that has taken a solid

thrashing, for you have been an ass and your people closed in their mind, or perhaps just obedient. But at least now you are getting around to being a father, and not the stubborn King of Mirkwood." He smiled. "Your hospitality has been lacking, but I will forgive the oversight if ye now consider your son's happiness and let him have his friends, and maybe help your people get over what should be gotten over, for your example I wager will lead the way."

Thranduil coughed a little, and glowered, and felt taken aback all at once. "I...I apologize. But I have...had my reasons for disliking your kind at one time. Yet, you are right," he added slowly, for his mind was trying to expand enough to take in the new thoughts and feelings he was not used to at all, and yet knew were part of him now. "Elves have long memories. Mine may be abetted too much by temper and...stubbornness. I will judge you on yourself and not my prejudice."

"Tis a start, and a good one."

"You still have atrocious table manners."

"And you be so delicate you'd think food was to dance with and not eat," shot back Gimli with a smile, his tone friendly. "You need a good ale here! And more plain cooking."

Thranduil swallowed hard, trying to suppress a smile. "We like to dance with our food," he said, and mock-glowered.

Gimli grinned. "Well, tis fine for fancy occasions, but do you not ever want to just tear in and stuff yourself till you can barely waddle to bed?"

Thranduil almost paled, but he also laughed. "A Dwarf waddles. Elves never waddle. Waddling is not possible. And you are a barbarian."

Gimli bowed and said, "Finally! A compliment!"

By that time, Legolas had both buried his head in his hands in horror and was fighting not to laugh. Gimli and Thranduil - two worlds clashing, and with a vengeance, and each trying to not to make it clash too hard! Part of him was sure that Gimli would be thrown out or into a dungeon, while the other part of him who had become accustomed to Gimli's way of speech was already chuckling.

The interesting thing was that he had never seen his father this way… but perhaps that was because he had never been in this situation.

Thranduil expertly fought his opponents with their own weapons in speech, and he naturally seemed to adapt Gimli's style of blunt words and exaggeration. But, how long could that last? "Uhm... I remember a very courteous dwarf back in Lothlorien," he said, in an attempt to possibly defuse a bit of the tension.

At this Gimli sighed in sudden reverie, and a smile of deep affection crinkled the edges of his eyes. Thranduil was shocked for he had not thought Dwarves capable of such deep emotions. "What happened in Lothlorien?" he asked, not wanting to, yet too curious to keep the question from being asked.

Gimli sighed again, and took out a little purse he kept tucked away close to his heart. "The Lady of Light, Galadriel, Fairest of the Fair, and the first Elf I ever liked." His voice had taken on a faraway tone, and it was easy to see that the memory was clear and cherished by him. "She was lofty, by right, and yet she did not speak down to me. And she gave me these precious treasures." With utmost care, he opened the folded sections of leather, and Thranduil had no choice but to bend over to see what the folds contained, for he could only see some odd faint golden glint, finer then silk strands.

"Three hairs?"

Gimli nodded, and did not touch them, but carefully folded them again into their leather protector and slipped the carrier back into his tunic. "I will set them in crystal one day, and it will be my prized tribute to She Who Has No Peer."

Thranduil was beyond startled at the reverence in the Dwarf's voice.

"Do you…like Elves now?"

Gimli pondered. "I like two, and that is more than I ever thought I would," he admitted. "Because of that, I thought I might try to judge the person, and not the height, pointed ears, prancey ways, and superior tone of Elves. If you treat your son right, I might even come to like you, though that may be asking a bit much. But for the Lad's sake, I will give it a try."

Thranduil managed to cover a grin that wanted to become another glower.

He was better at the glowers, and so it was a struggle. "I do not like Dwarves," he said, and smiled at Legolas.

"Tis so? I'd never guess, so good you are at keeping your feeling secret."

Thranduil gave up and did grin. "You are insolent."

Gimli grinned back after sparing a wink for Legolas. "Nay, I be honest and sarcastic at the same time. YOU were being a thoughtless father, and I would have stopped just shy of calling you a fool. But you are seeking to rectify that now, and I give credit where credit is due."

Thranduil's grin shifted back to glower, and this time he meant it. A fool? His hands balled into fists, and he was about to order the arrest and detention of this Dwarf. "You take liberties!" He would have said more, but stopped short when Gimli began to chuckle merrily.

Gimli sat down on the floor and had to wipe his eyes. "Aye, this brings back the memories of how it was between Legolas and myself when we were first thrown into company. D'ya think we got along better than cats and dogs? Nay, we would've been at each other's throats with drawn weapons, had it not been for the Fellowship and its purpose. So we fought verbally for months. He called me, in every devilish, sly manner, much worse than a fool."

Thranduil held an inhale awhile longer than was comfortable, trying not to ask the question that begged asking. Finally he had to know. "What stopped the fighting?"

Gimli got back to his feet, but kept his handkerchief close, and then gave up and blew his nose loudly. "Twasn't a lack of insults, ye can be sure on that! Nay, we grew into a respect-—and I admit, twas grudging on my part. An Elf! Imagine the son of Gloin liking the son of the King who tossed his father into a cell! But tis effort to keep up a hard hatred of one who keeps saving your life, even if he's not happy about it. And I saved his. And neither of us said Thank you!"

Thranduil's answer came slow. It was the first time he thought about it, how it must have been with two so different individuals forced to work together on one quest. He realized that something must have happened on the way, something that had changed it all. All at once he felt honestly curious, and he did not like the feeling. "How did you become friends?"

Gimli answered readily. "One day we said Thank you, and did not meet eyes for awhile. But I'd too much to do to keep up the feud, and Legolas was a fine individual, even I had to admit that. And after not meeting eyes, we started to be easier in each other's presence, and when we were forced into a small group to save the lives of others, we discovered the main differences between us were superficial. We had the same hearts, or I flatter myself into hoping mine is as generous as his. We both lost friends, we both saved lives, we both went through the fires of battles. We became an alloy: stronger together than separate. And when we actually began to talk, we stopped insulting each other, for the most part."

"An alloy…"

Thranduil seemed genuinely interested now, and Gimli was more than ready to offer the information. He felt more at ease now, and almost in control of this conversation. "Aye. Once we came upon a villain bent on our deaths, and Legolas struck high while I struck low. We brought him down thus, and saved each other's necks again. Twas our first kill together. And that time, we said thank you with smiles, and used the same tactic whenever we encountered a like situation. Your son has a fine smile, and I wonder if he got it from you or his mother."

Although Thranduil did not smile, his anger had long dissipated, and at this point a softness that only a few minutes earlier had seemed impossible entered his eyes. "His mother."

"Tis as I thought."

Silence settled into the hall again for a little while, and with it Legolas felt some of the tension return which had so slowly and carefully been eased before. It seemed that both Gimli and Thrnaduil were feeling the same, but to Legolas' surprise it was not Gimli who broke the silence first.

Thranduil's voice was soft, as if he was still in thought. Legolas knew that he was only stumped for the moment, and that even friendly words now would not mean a change of mind. "I still do not like Dwarves."

"Feuds die hard, Elf King. I most dislike you for your treatment of your son, not that you are an Elf."

"You are…comfortable around Elves now?"

Gimli made a vague movement with his hand, like trying to chase away unwanted shadows, and shook his head, but he was smiling as he did it.

"Nay, I can say that readily enough. But I know ye aren't all bad, your noses stuck permanently higher in the air than they are by virtue of height. Just some of you."

"It is hard to keep the nose up when talking to one of such low stature."

Usually Gimli would have taken a comment like that as an insult or, coming from Legolas, as a welcome excuse for some friendly bantering. But now he did none of that. He smiled, and shot a meaningful glance at his friend. "And that is the first time you've even looked in my eyes, King, or even tried to."

There was a moment of startled silence. "You are right," Thranduil said at length, and obviously felt uncomfortable meeting those eyes.

"Congratulations, King; Legolas need almost several months to give me one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Later, when Legolas and Gimli were on the way back to Legolas' quarters Gimli felt more happy and relaxed than he had ever since their arrival in Mirkwood. And he did not like the fact that Legolas was obviously, although happier than before, less enthusiastic than he.

"See lad, that wasn't so bad! All it needs is talk – it was the same with us."

"Yes it was."

"Then smile, you stubborn elf!" Gimli was far from happy with Legolas' reaction. The elf seemed relieved, but not much else, something that his friend almost took as an insult, or a disregard for his efforts in talking to the King of Mirkwood. "There is no reason to be so gloomy anymore. It worked!"

Legolas shook his head. "It will not last for long."

A minute passed. They reached Legolas quarters, entered, and closed the door behind them. Another minute passed.

Finally Gimli had to accept that Legolas was not going to volunteer any more words without a good nudge. "And why do you think it will not last for long?"

That seemed to do the trick. Legolas sighed and finally fully focused on his friend again. "It is not going to last for long because I know my father. Once he is alone he will wonder what came over him, and start to feel stubborn about letting himself be influenced so easily. The seed may be there, but it will be a long time until the flower is ready to bloom."

Legolas sat down on a reclining chair that usually was only used for decoration or as a place to put down various items, for he preferred the chair near the window. He did not look upset, or as worried as before, but tired. There was hope in his eyes now, and relief, but also the knowledge that they were still a long way from full acceptance.

"Gimli, do you plan to talk to every elf in Mirkwood? You would have to, because even thought my father's word counts much, and he can order a certain behaviour, he cannot change people's feelings overnight. For years dwarves were banished from even entering the woods. I technically broke the law by bringing you here. For that reason my father will have to be careful with his decisions so avoid the impression that those of his family are above the law."

That finally got Gimli's attention. "Law..? Does that mean you might be in danger?"

Legolas shook his head. Whether it was in doubt or answering Gimli's question was hard to tell, but even that moment passed, and in the end the elf smiled a thin smile at his friend. "All I want it to point out that the situation is not that easy and that it will still be a difficult way – and of course to get you back on the ground."

Gimli whuffled and felt mildly annoyed with Elves and agitated that Legolas was upset. The elf tried not to show it, but Gimli knew him too well to be fooled. He did not worry over what might be his fate here in Mirkwood, for he had accepted all possibilities concerning that when he agreed to accompany Legolas to his homeland. "Well, I assume you mean get me above ground and out of Mirkwood, laddie, which I think we can do one way or the other," he finished, and then briefly switched his attention to a platter of fruits on a low table. "Really, I could help by sharing recipes if nothing else. You Elves are far too dainty in your eating; you need to discover steak and haunches." He was trying to distract his friend from his heavy thoughts, something that was met with very little success at first.

"We do..." Legolas started, and against all tradition he let the bait go. Those friendly arguments seemed to fit everywhere, just not in the now. He was about to drift back into thoughts when Gimli fired another shot, and this one did not fail its mark.

"Laddie," the Dwarf suddenly said. "Would you like to go hunting?"

"Hunting?" Out in the woods. Oh yes, fresh air, free space and a clear head, that was something he would very much. Instantly Legolas face brightened and he looked at Gimli with the new/old affection. Trust a friend to find the simple answer to the complicated problem. "Yes, I think I would like that - with the sound of your steps warning every animal a mile around I doubt we will be very successful, though."

Now Gimli's eyes held a gleam, even if his voice held that scornful tone the two were used to--one barb deserved another, but there was no malice in their voices, just poking fun. "And you could prance up to a deer and probably tickle it to death if you wanted. You think Dwarves cannot hunt? We'll see about that! Lead the way, Elf, and we'll see who brings down the first prey!" He cheerfully hefted his axe and beamed.

"Careful with that axe!" Legolas laughed, but also with a serious note involved. "Some guards might decide you are a danger to me if you wave it like that." In truth, Gimli would probably have been stripped off his whole set of weaponry upon arrival had it not been Legolas' heavy insistence. He had gone so far as giving a direct order which the guards at the time did not have the courage to counter. Legolas would count on his luck a second time.

"Very well then." he said, smiling, the trouble of the day not forgotten but pushed into unimportance for now. He headed for the corner where his bow, the gift of Galadriel, stood with the quiver right next to it. Fully strung and powerful the weapon also had some comforting consistency about it. "I will take your challenge, Dwarf."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

This, with some stretch of imagination could be referred to as a fair game, Legolas reflected - if one could ignore the fact that one of the two hares that they had tracked down looked like it had a run-in with... an axe; which was exactly what had happened. He glanced at the prey in question and grinned. "I wonder if there is any eatable meat left on that hare or whether you crushed every part of the poor animal. I am disappointed my friend. I had the impression that your aim were better than that."

Gimli whuffled, in fact a little embarrassed to have missed his aim and instead of having a nice rabbit to roast over a spit, he had a, well, he had to admit it wasn't very appetizing to look at. He was holding the hare as far from himself as his arm reached to avoid his garments to be spoiled with blood. "I aimed cleanly at the neck, but it hopped, and--I cannot help it if the poor creature hopped just then and got all...well, we both brought down prey at the same moment, so this contest is a draw. We never stipulated," Gimli added, no longer whuffling, "that it was a contest of 'pretty' kills." He sighed. "We can cook yours. I better leave mine to the forest creatures who won't mind the, er, lack of--a wolf would have done worse!" Gimli looked a bit testy.

Legolas laughed. The whole adventure, the free air, being away from walls, eyes, whispers and worries felt good. It also made him careless. That at least was how he would call it later: carelessness. Otherwise he would never have left his friend's side.

"We will make use of it." he said. It simply would not feel right to do a hunt and afterwards leave the animal for the predators. "But for now let us follow your plan and cook this beautiful and _whole_ hare. Would you like to collect some wood while I prepare it?"

Gimli looked up at Legolas and slightly furrowed his brow. "I suppose it is the best plan, since you would fault my method of preparation. You take care of that, and I will get wood. And if I manage it, I might even manage to bring back a perfectly, er, another hare, since I am hungry. I hear a stream beyond the woods a ways, and fish like streams." He suddenly beamed when he got an idea. "I will reconnoiter, and if the fish look good, we can finish off this adventure with some good old fashioned fishing. I bet I can catch more than you." With that he took up his axe and headed off in the direction of some trees, in search of wood.

Legolas followed him with his eyes for a moment, but then concentrated on preparing the hare for the cooking. There was enough dry wood around that he could expect his friend to return soon. By that time, he planned to be finished with his task also.

Dwarven pride was something to recon with, an Gimli's pride, intentionally or not, whether he dwelt on it or not, had taken a solid beating during the last several days. So now he felt the urge to prove, if only to himself, that he was as capable as any dwarf – or elf. In short, he wanted to surprise Legolas.

The stream was not very far, but over a slight hill where the ground was littered with rocks that were only loosely connected with the loose earth. It was a fertile are and the stream, if memory served Gimli right, had shown signs of a good population of fish. With a little luck he could quickly catch enough to contribute an equal share to their meal.

Gimli rarely had had use for it, but he had carried the fishing line and a few precious hooks with him since he had left his home to travel. So he extracted it--fine spruce root, soaked to make it strong, with a braiding around it of fine thread. It was not too heavy, and not too light. With it he could catch and haul in a big fishie, or a smaller one.

This stream, under his educated eyes, had a fairly respectable mass of fish in any of several places--and the underbank across the river was just exactly one of those places. He carefully knotted a hook into place, and made a cast, the only bait the little bit of pale feather tied to the hook. In a moment he was pulling in a fish larger than the hare Legolas was readying.

"Well, that was easy," he said, with a smile. In less than ten minutes he had provided more fare for their feast than had the Elf. "I will catch one more, which should rub it in nicely," he whispered to himself, and in another ten minutes, he had that second fish. He stowed his line and hook, and then dropped the fish on the bank, for there was an Elf standing there, watching him. How long he had been there, Gimli had no idea.

"Well?" he asked, annoyed. "So ye can sneak up on a Dwarf who is busy fishing. Are you so proud of that?" His lesser axe, snatched up instinctively and held in ready stance, now dropped lower, although he still held it in his hand.

The elf was one of the guards the patrolled the area around the stronghold. Very little trouble was expected here, and so the patrols were neither very numerous nor overly careful. There was still very little that escaped their attention, though. Arthenias was his name, and he stood there with that deceptively casual stance that Gimli had often seen in Legolas, apparently relaxed but ready to draw and fire an arrow in a moment's notice - and he was warily eyeing the axe in Gimli's hand.

"We do not sneak through our land." he said, now coming nearer. "If you do not hear normal steps, that is not of my concern. What are you doing here, Dwarf, alone and unguarded?"

"For all your keen eyesight, you missed the fact that I was fishin, laddie? Ach, yer no so mighty and elevated, except for your height. And if you know anything at all," he added with the dry but pointed humor he was noted for, "you know my name is Gimli, and I rarely am far from the Lord Legolas, who I expect you might know by name at least." He felt annoyed. "Really, do you act daft on purpose, or just because you think it suits Elves? Because, I must be honest, daft is what I would have t' call ye based on your actions and words. Aiii! My fihsies!"

They had been strung on a line, ready for carrying back to camp, and since they had been dropped so unmindfully, the land's contours slowly had one of them pulling the other slowly through the grass toward the bank. Gimli caught them both just as they tumbled over the embankment, which unfortunately gave way under his weight--and he found himself flailing as he tried not to fall backwards into the water.

Lightning fast reflexes kicked in and the elf took a step forward and reached out, just in time to grab one of Gimli's arm in the moment when he was about to finally fall over the edge. He was a tad too slow, though, and by the time he started pulling back Gimli was far enough over the edge that the effort only slowed Gimli's fall, but made Arthenias lose his footing as well.

A moment later they hit the ground. Water splashed, but it was not deep enough to ease the impact. Arthenias gave a strange sound, something between a gasp and a gurgle, and even after a long moment the elf made no move to take his weight off Gimli, on whom he had partially landed.

"Ach!" said Gimli, wondering at the actions of this strange Elf. "You can get off me any time, Laddie, although I do thank ye for trying to keep me from..." Gimli tried to move his axe hand, and realized that while it moved, the axe did not. He knew immediately what had happened, and bit off a curse. His fishes forgotten, he changed his hold on the Elf and kept his voice soft. "Easy now, let me help you. Just keep breathing."

He managed to heft the slight form onto the banks, and looked at his axe deeply embedded into the ribcage, which was soaked with bright red, frothy blood. "Oh no," he whispered, for this wound would prove mortal. "There now, Lad, look up at the pretty sky, and think about all whom you love." Then he roared, "LEGOLAS!" with all the fear and regret he felt.

The first moment of shock had worn off, or had it just been disbelief. Whatever it had been that had kept him from feeling the full pain and fear was gone now. He could barely breathe, left alone move or speak, and he knew that his condition was bad, and worsening rapidly. He heard the words, and he looked up in the sky and breathed a wordless goodbye to Middle Earth as his fëa departed to Mandos.

Legolas was getting bored. He had finished preparing the hare up to the point of having the fireplace and everything ready, and only missing the wood. His back was propped against the nearest tree and he was uninspiredly chipping away at a piece of wood when his ears picked up the dim sound of Gimli's voice being carried on the wind.

Gimli! Even as dim as the sound was at the distance he could hear the urgency in his friend's voice, and in a moment he was on his feet, running, with no more tought of teh hare, the fireplace or a meal.

But Legolas was not the only one who had heard the shout, and after only moments three more guards appeared at the riverbank, one with his sword draw. The others had their bows ready, arrows knocked and drawn. The moment they saw Gimli next to the injured Arthinias they carefully aimed at him. "You. Dwarf. Get away from him!"

Gimli looked down at the vacant eyes of the dead Elf he still cradled in his arms. One hand was gory from blood, and his axe...well, he had never felt so bad. He knew accidents happened, but he had watched the soul of an immortal pass on, and it had shaken him. He had heard and seen the other three Elves approach, and not moved a bit, except to look sadly up at them.

When ordered to get away from the fallen one, he very gently laid him on the grass, and stepped to the side, keeping both hands in sight. "What was his name?" he asked, wondering briefly where Legolas was. "I wish to say a prayer."

His question was ignored. While two were keeping an eye on him the third hurried to kneel next to the fallen elf, but all he could do was sigh and announce the terrible truth to his comrades. "He is dead." Grief was in his eyes, and rage as he now approached Gimli. "You will have to answer for this. Drop your weapons."

There was not much point in trying to explain what had happened; Gimli knew this. Dwarf killed Elf--what more would these three need to know? So silently he complied, dropping every weapon, even the smaller throwing knives hidden in his boots, to the ground, and stepping away from them. He began quietly to intone a dirge for the dead, waiting for whatever happened next.

"Follow us." The elf who had taken up the role as leader of the three ordered, and if anything his voice had only become colder. All three were clearly still in shock, but only the harder for it. While two lead Gimli away towards the stronghold one stayed behind to guard their fallen comrade.

It was hard to follow the call. Why had Gimli not called a second time? That thought made Legolas feel even more worried than he already was, but he could not speed up his movement any further. After first starting to run blindly he had soon figured that if he wanted to find his friend he needed to follow the trail, something that slowed him down considerably.

It was minutes before he reached the stream, and he gasped at what he found there. "What happened?" he asked, skidding to a halt and kneeling down where the guard was keeping watch, looking utterly helpless. Legolas knew him. He was only a little older than himself, and he even recognized that disbelieving look in his eyes. Death was a constant threat, but it rarely ventured this deep into Mirkwood. Instinctively Legolas reached out and squeezed the other elf's shoulder, even as he took in the lifeless form, the wound, still seeping blood and with the axe where it had hit. What in Middle Earth..?

"The dwarf killed him." Came the answer, and Legolas was sure that the voice was trembling with more than plain grief. There was also much anger there. "They are taking him before the King now."

Legolas paled. This could not be. He did not believe it. Not Gimli. He remembered the desperate call that had brought him here.. "Valar."

Legolas jumped up. He had to reach the palace before the others did.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Gimli was as silent as ever a Dwarf was on the march back to the Stronghold. He glanced briefly up at the walls and especially at the work on the door he had admired. He doubted he would ever see that side of it again. So it comes to this? he thought, and even they were nearly expressionless. He had long since stopped leaving a trail of blood, yet the evidence of it was covering parts of him, and he knew every Elf the small group passed could see and smell it was the blood of their kin, and that he was unarmed and fully guarded. He sighed, and hoped at least he would be given a chance to say goodbye to Legolas.

The throne room was deep into the Stronghold, and another Elf now walked beside him other than one of the original three who had come upon him easing their comrade into the afterlife. The third had run ahead to summon the King. Gimli knew Thranduil would not be happy about this, and there was no blame for that in the Dwarf's heart.

They were admitted, and Thranduil was just appearing from another door, hastily pulling on a grandly embroidered overtunic. When Gimli was ordered to halt a distance back, and four spears were pointed at him, he only watched passively. He watched as Thranduil listened to whispers from the one Elf. The King kept flicking glances his way, but was listening attentively, his brows rising once in surprise, lowering in sorrow, then holding steady in Kingly anger. Thranduil turned to two guards at his right, and ordered them to find Legolas.

Gimli was glad, for at least he might catch a glimpse of his friend one last time.

After the guards left in search of Legolas several minutes stretched in uncomfortable silence, until suddenly the doors where thrown open again in a hurry. Not fast enough, though, for the wings were barely opened far enough to admit anyone yet when Legolas came barging through at a run. His face was etched with worry, and not even the short flicker of relief that crossed his features once he spotted Gimli changed that.

With all the dignity and grace that he could muster - which was a lot - he stopped right next to his friend. Appearances and demeanour were important, he knew, no mater how urgent the feelings in his heart. "Mylord," he greeted his father with a proper bow, but then turned to Gimli. "Tell me what happened."

Thranduil spoke before the Dwarf had a chance. "I am glad you are unharmed, else this Dwarf would have had no other chances to speak. Legolas, stand aside, and let me handle this."

Legolas hesitated, but in the end he did as he was being told. Angering his father by opposing ignoring a simple order in front of others would only make matters worse, and things already were as bad as he could imagine. But that was what he had thought a few hours earlier already – no matter how bad, things could get worse, somehow, it seemed.

Gimli smiled briefly up at his friend, and remained quiet. He turned back to face Thranduil.

Thranduil came down the steps from his throne and stopped a spear's length from those guards pointing their leaf-bladed weapons at the guest only truly welcomed by one. "Gimli son of Gloin, of a race unwelcome in this land, how came you to take the life of

Arthenias, a well-respected guard of long standing in Mirkwood?"

Gimli waited a moment before answering, first closing his eyes and saying the prayer he had wanted to say earlier. "King of Mirkwood, I offer my condolences to the family, friends, and realm of Arthinias, Guard of Mirkwood. I hope I can tell what happened, and be truly listened to."

Thranduil nodded only once. "You will be listened to, and your story checked for truth."

Gimli explained then, even telling of the contest to hunt and bring in the most fare for the picnic. "The fish were my way of proving myself. And then Arthinias surprised me. Of course I took up my small axe, but I lowered it again quickly. And when the bank gave way, it was a simple accident. The Elf grabbed me to keep me from falling, and neither of us knew my axe had bitten him. We both fell into the water, and that was…that." Gimli's voice lowered. "No one here will want to believe that an Elf was killed helping a Dwarf keep from toppling into a stream because a bank gave way. I wish I had never seen that stream, nor felt so compelled to better Legolas' hunting. I wish Arthinias lived and breathed and enjoyed the sun still." He looked up, into the King's eyes. "A senseless death, King; it will bring his family no comfort to have been trying to keep a Dwarf from getting wet. I am sorry."

Legolas swallowed. An accident, a terrible accident, he had suspected something similar, but hearing the story still but it all into an uncomfortably clear understanding. Slowly he walked over to Gimli again, deliberately not looking at his father while he did it, lest the King might signal him to stop, and put a hand on his shoulder. As small a gesture as it was, it was all he could do for his friend at the moment.

Gimli appreciated the hand on his shoulder, and glanced only briefly up at his friend. "I'm sorry, Laddie." Thranduil's eyes sent him an angry yet enigmatic look then, and so he turned again to face the King.

Thranduil was aware too well of the mood in the hall. He had had many millennia to learn to read body language even of such self-controlled beings as Elves, and his subjects were not at all happy. "Dwarf, keep your silence awhile." His voice was sterner than he might want it to be, yet in his own heart he rebelled against this so-senseless death. "Are there witnesses?"

Gimli, obediently, spoke not, but shook his head.

"Then I call for evidence to be brought forth. What did the guards see, and hear, and what does the area show that can tell what happened?"

"We heard a roar, and followed the sound. When we arrived we found Arthenias, dead, and this dwarf kneeling next to him. And the axe that killed him.."

Even as one of the guards stepped forward and told his view of the events, Legolas gripped Gimli's shoulder a bit tighter, for he realized that in his shock and haste he had not taken a close look around at trails or other evidence. What a lapse that was! He found himself glancing at the door several times, wishing he could get out again and make up for it quickly. But now that he was in the throne room he could not leave until given permission.

"There is very little evidence - yet" he heard himself say the moment the guard had finished, and before anyone else could say anything else. "No one thought of looking for traces in the excitement. Pray, I seek permission to go out and collect what evidence I can find." Others were already on their way to retrieve the body. Legolas hoped they would not too much disturb the scene, for he was confident, if only enough traces of what happened could be found they had to point at his friend's innocence.

Thranduil could not help but send Legolas a look of disappointment. "Nay, Legolas, you are not clear headed in this." He looked at his Elves, and said clearly, "Many in this chamber are not clear minded."

He turned to Gimli and approached him. "I will go myself. You will wait in a cell, and Legolas will be locked in the cell beside yours, and guards will tell me if you speak at all, for you do not have either of you leave to say a word after this moment until I say otherwise." He nodded to his own guards and said, clearly, "Their garments will be taken but for their undertunics, until we know more." Only once did he seek Legolas' eyes, and in them he let his expression remain neutral, hoping his son would understand.

Legolas gasped, which was actually, an objection turned into a gasp in the last possible moment. And even afterwards he had to guard himself not to speak. This was outrageous. If only he were given the chance he could quickly go and ..

Yet, there was no crossing Thranduil's will in this. Disobedience even if in the smallest of things, especially in this setting, would only serve to turn more minds against them. Now was not the time for talk, not in this setting. Still he was shocked. Looking in his father's eyes and found a cool mind there, something that both gave him confidence and chilled him to the bone. In the end he broke the eye contact, for guards were now on either side of him and he found himself pushed to hand over his weapons. He did it slowly, though, for he did not agree with this arrangement at all, and wished to show it, since he had not allowed to put his opinion into words.

Gimli, who of course was already disarmed, was already being led out.

He did not glance around, but let his ears do his work. He had almost smiled sadly when Legolas protested in the only way he could, and he wished with all his might that he had not gotten his friend into trouble with him! It had been when he was just turning to give Legolas the smile that he hoped would encourage him that he understood when the guards shoved him so he almost fell, and in falling gave the guards the reason they needed to take him by the arms and haul him physically from the room.

Now the dwarf wished to protest, but he did not. Keenly he felt a death on his shoulders, so hands trying to get around his thick, corded biceps did not overly trouble him. His dignity could stand it. So Gimli went quietly. He did not even memorize the halls and corridors they walked through.

But when they came to the stairs leading down into the dungeon, and the heavy doors each had to be unlocked by two different keys, he felt fear course through him. He fought back just a wee bit, and the Elf on his left clouted him on the head for it. He saw stars for only a few moments, but it was still long enough for them to reach a long bank of cells.

"Obey the King, Dwarf. You are permitted your undertunic. Leave everything else on the floor here. And remove your boots."

Gimli only nodded again, his remorse still strong enough that he gave the guards no cause for worry as he left everything he owned in a neat pile beside the door. He expected to be shoved into the cell then. However, he was sorely tried to keep his voice unheard when the Elves took the metal clasps from his hair and beard.

Only then did he finally get a glance at Legolas.

Legolas was positively unhappy. Not only was he deprived of a chance for helping his friend, he was also treated as an accomplice or a danger. The guards had treated him with enough respect on the way down, so that he could make his way with dignity, and besides moving slowly he gave them no reason to put hands on him, something they seemed thankful for. Once stripped of the rest of his gear and outer garments he even delayed being moved to his cell for long enough to give Gimli a long look, which unfortunately failed to be completely comforting due to the elf's own uproar of feelings. What a day this had been.

Gimli of course had less influence on his guard and so was quickly shoved inside and the door locked, at which point Legolas sighed and allowed himself to be locked into his cell.

It was an uncomfortable place if ever he had seen one. No, actually, he had seen worse places, and been in worse places, like the Orc-infested ruins of Moria, but none of them held so much personal humiliation than this one. He had never been in a cell before, not even down here at the dungeons much, and certainly not locked in. The place smelled of damp and stale air, and the stone walls and floor were cold and uninviting. He sat down with his back against the wall and wondered what had brought him here, and what would happen now.

It was true, he was not clear headed. Yes, he was probably biased, and heavily, but since when was that a crime? He had all the right to investigate the accident as all others. One thing was for sure, he would have a long talk with his father later - when he was allowed to talk again, or even if not. And he would have to do something about the darkness here in the dungeons. Even after no more than a few minutes it started to be unnerving.

Gimli had tried to use his eyes to beg forgiveness from Legolas. However, he had been given no chance, being shoved into the dark cell. The first thing he did was step on some crunchy bug, and broke through a web with his hand. Still he managed not to make a sound, and only backed up against the wall the door was on. He heard the heavy bar fall into place and two locks again being locked. Elves certainly did not take chances, he almost muttered, feeling a brief resurgence of irritation. But he had to be honest. If the situation had been reversed, the Elf would have seen his cell only after the skin of his back had felt the lash a few times, and even then he would have thought this a comfortable place compared to the low ceiling and narrow floor of Dwarf dungeon cells. Gimli swallowed hard, and sighed, and moved over to the wall separating him from his one friend in Mirkwood. He hoped against better knowledge that Legolas was not too furious and upset.

Thranduil left the throne room before the...prisoners. Yes, he had to admit that Gimli was a prisoner, and that Legolas was going to have to get used to the cell for the time being, else word might spread that the King was giving his son special liberties.

What a mess it all was. An unwelcomed Dwarf guest had killed of one his Elves, and accident or not, it had happened, and there was no doubt who had caused the death. Something would have to be done to keep this situation from going from bad to worse. So he left the Stronghold with several guards versed in reading signs in ground, vegetation, and behavior.

The wagon bearing the body of Arthinias met them halfway, and halted when Thranduil raised his hand, and he pulled back the cloth over the body after saying a prayer. He then dared to study the wound which had taken the life of this Elf. Yes, it had been made by a small axe, and the placement of it was as it would be for such an accident as Gimli described.

Yet, a clever Dwarf might make such a wound just to claim it was an accident, for even a finger's width to either side of where it had bitten Arthinias, and the Elf would still live. Thranduil put the cloth over the death-paled face and signaled the wagon onward, and his party went in the other direction, toward the point of the accident. And then the first crack of thunder sounded, as if it had startled itself as much as the Elves, and the skies seemed equally shocked to suddenly be drenching everything under them.

Thranduil bowed his head against the downpour, and against the knowledge that a riverbank would feel the effects of such a downpour. Evidence was being destroyed before it was seen. He spurred his horse into a careful gallop, and reached the site in time to see almost twenty feet more of the bank give way to the river's temper.

He was staring at a bank, thinking if it was that close to giving way, the accident could be real, or the bank gave way after the murder, and thus provided an alibi. He knows no more now than he did before.

Those guards he had brought quickly dismounted, obviously as little pleased about the moody weather as their king, and spread out. Two hurried toward the river bank, though very careful, and looked around. It was no use. What traces there had been which had not yet been washed by the river were quickly erased by the rain or were already covered by the collapsed part of the bank. Those who searched the grass had slightly more luck. They quickly found the place where Arthinias had been found, and some heavy foot prints and marks of something - or someone - being dragged coming from the river. Aside that, there were many fresher footprints around from those who had come to pick up the body.

The most solid form of evidence was found in the form of two fish that had been strung together, and of which the string had gotten caught in the branches of a bush that grew partly into the water a short distance downstream

Thranduil looked at the fish, and the evidence, and found himself now more inclined to believe Gimli than he had before. Two fish. Slim evidence, but it was more than they had had. "Guards, what make you of this? I ask your opinions."

The guards seemed hesitant to talk, and hardly hid their unhappiness. They were angry, and grieved, and whatever each personally had hoped to find out there, had been disappointed. Finally, one spoke up. "There is not much that we can make anything of." he said. We know the river bank collapsed, we know that Arthinias was...that he died or at least took the wound down there somewhere and was dragged afterwards over there. There is no sign of a struggle or fight, but all traces down near the river have been erased. And it seems the dwarf did catch some fish. But none of this truly proves that his story is true. The bank could have collapsed during a fight, and conveniently erased all traces."

"Arthinias never even got his dagger out," one threw in, but the next answered: "We do not know that. The dwarf could simply have returned it to his belt after the murder."

Thranduil shook his head, forcefully. "Think you such evidence would have missed the eyes of so many Elves, especially since a Dwarf is involved in Arthinias' death? No, he never drew his knife. It would have been far easier for the...Gimli to have tossed the knife far downstream. To me, the greatest evidence that no dagger was drawn was no wound on Gimli's person. An Elf would have at least cut him." But upon the rest of the evidence, Thranduil had to agree. It could be bent in two directions, depending upon the interpretation. "What think you of the Dwarf?" asked Thranduil, curious to know what the responses would be.

The answer was at first astonished silence, until one almost hesitantly said, with the same tone of voice that one would use if someone asked you which color the sun was. "He is a dwarf."

Thranduil's brow rose, and then his other. He was beginning to feel the first stirrings of irritation at this automatic distrust between two species--and it startled him, for a few days ago he had participated in it himself. More than participated, he had encouraged it. The change puzzled him, but it had become too persistent to shrug it off like a passing mood. He began to see that Legolas had indeed learned much, and had much to teach Mirkwood. One single Dwarf, even if his quality of personality were the exception, had been enough to make him think. Thranduil asked his guards, "And how would you think, based on Gimli's actions, that he feels towards you?"

This now caused the deepest silence so far, for none of the guards had ever even spared one second of thought for this. Frankly, they did not in the least care how the dwarf felt, as long as he was soon gone from their view. Even more frankly, they had not paid much attention to the dwarf's reactions either - those two who had actually seen him. The others had caught no more than a glimpse, but all the more gossip. So, as the time stretch each hoped someone of the others would answer the question, but none did.

And so the rest of the ride to the Stronghold was made in silence, until they came within sight of the gates. "Speak to none, until I send for you. You will keep to your quarters. Tomorrow the evidence will be presented." He accepted their bows, and entered the gates, still incongruously carrying the fish, which he turned over to his own cooks in good time, although the fish were not to be prepared. They were to be put in a cool place and left just as they were.

Later, Thranduil sent his own personal guards down into the dungeons to replace all the guards there. But come an hour after midnight, he himself descended into the dungeons, and he carried with him bread and cheese and wine. He entered a clean room with a simple door. There was a table and chairs, and oil lamps, which he lit. Then he asked that Legolas be brought to him.

tbc..


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Legolas had no idea how much time had passed until he heard steps outside again. It did not even matter, it could be hours or minutes for all that he cared. His mood had plummeted fast after being shut in and not improved at all since. At first he merely glared at the door like he had glared at the darkness around him, but when the keys were turned in the lock he stood - and instantly was blinded by the light that came in through the opening door. It took a while until his eyes had adjusted to it again, but the guards seemed to have brought a portion of patience, and waited until he seemed ready. "King Thranduil wishes to talk to you, Lord..." The last word swiftly lost power as he said it and his voice trailed away. Legolas had no trouble imagining why. At present he hardly looked lordly.

With two quick steps he left the cell, glad to be out of there, but then stopped, looking at the one right next to his. His mouth opened to speak the question that came to his mind, but then he remembered that he was still under the ban not to speak and so merely nodded to the guards to lead the way. Truly, he needed to talk to his father.

Once he had entered the small room, which looked like a side room for the guards, and as pleasant as any place could look down here, he waited until the door had safely closed behind him. Then, however, he felt no obligation to hold his silence any longer. "Would you mind explaining this to me?"

It pained Thranduil to see his son so unhappy and angry. He had come down here to do what he could to alleviate the distress he now clearly saw and heard, and to begin with, he poured Legolas a glass of wine and muttered, "You inherited too much temper from me. Luckily, you got some wisdom from your mother. You may speak freely now, by the way, at least in here." He indicated the chair opposite him--the third was not yet at tableside.

There was a moment of hesitation, which was designed to let Thranduil know how little his son approved of the situation, but then Legolas sat down in the offered chair, but did not reach for the wine yet. "Well then, I shall speak freely. I know of the severity of the situation. However, that only means that I should be out searching for what evidence could be found, not locked up down here like a traitor. Besides…" No, that would go too far. As much as he wished it, he knew that Gimli's release was all but impossible now. As much as he believed in his friend's innocence, he was still accused of murder and would be kept in custody until the matter was resolved. "Someone needs to do something about these dungeons."

"Yes, I agree, except when they hold Orcs, and then I do not agree. Dungeons are too good for Orcs. May I assume you and Gimli were put in the least cells? My apologies for not stipulating which ones." Not that he could have, considering that it was believed by his realm that an Elf had been murdered by a Dwarf who happened to be a friend of the King's own son, and he could not do anything to show favoritism, even if it meant Legolas and Gimli had had to spend some uncomfortable hours locked in the dark. He frowned down at his glass then, and held the silence for two minutes, during which his only movement was to shove over the bread and cheese platters. There was plenty.

He finally broke the silence after looking across the table at Legolas. His own face showed the seriousness of the situation, as well as the weight of it on his mind. "Listen, my son. Gimli will be brought in soon, so have no fear he will be left in there any longer than this can prevent. But we have a problem. Two, I suppose. Legolas," Thranduil said with his voice full of the sadness he did not let many see. "Why do you think I put you down here?"

"To keep me from interfering with the investigation?"

"You did not get as much wisdom from your mother as I thought," muttered Thranduil, letting his fingers make an unusual run through his hair—or begin to, until they met the complex braidwork he wore, which effectively meant he could not run his fingers through his hair. He cursed the office that meant he could not fidget the way he wished to and clasped his hands together on the tabletop. "No, that is not why. I thought you looked beyond the superficial." He sighed at length, and added, "But it has been a most trying day. Legolas, the majority of Elves will think what you just said, but I assumed…hoped…you would understand the real reason." He leaned over his hands on the table, and spoke quietly. "It is to keep our people from believing I favor you, and therefore Gimli, and questioning whatever verdict must be reached based on the evidence, not emotion."

Thranduil's fingers drummed once each on the tabletop before he stopped that and clasped his hands together again on the wood and sat back in his chair. "The evidence is not going to help us much, my Son. It could be interpreted either way. It rained, and more of the riverbank collapsed. However, I did find and recover the fish."

Legolas did not know whether he liked the answer. He did not spend much time thinking about it, and even if he had he would probably have come to the conclusion that there were less forceful ways of showing that he was not being favored. It did not matter now, for he fully concentrated on the matter of the difficulty with the evidence. "The fish show that he told the truth and was indeed there to fish," he said, allowing his hopes to raise a notch, but not too much. If evidence could be interpreted either way, he had a notion of which way it would go. It was so very frustrating. He had become a chess piece in a game of appearances, and could hardly act at all. "So I am here so it does not seem like you are drawing conclusions based on personal preferences, yours or mine. And honestly, after all that happened today, I am not sure what to expect. What do you believe?"

Thranduil actually sighed, with no attempt to hide it. "On the way back, I asked the guards what they thought of Gimli. They answered, as I would have but a few short hours ago, 'He's a Dwarf!' And it...irritated me. How did we get into this racial hatred? It is illogical to prolong it like this. I do remember how it all started, and it made sense enough then, but times do change. Now, having talked to Gimli, and seeing you with him, all those past events seem to fade, and it is getting harder to explain the old habits. And someone has to put a stop to them." He suddenly looked almost shy, which was a difficult emotion to pull off considering his age and that he had not felt shy in more millennia than he could remember. "I think you are that Elf, and I think...I hope Gimli is that dwarf. I have a plan."

"You surprise me." Legolas now took a larger swig from the wine. It comfortably warmed him from inside, and the motion gave him time to study his father. "My guess was that after the talk earlier you would shake off the effects and stick to your views with the usual stubbornness and pride." He did not give Thranduil time to protest, for even if he did, there could not be any honest objection if they both were honest. "Tell me of that plan."

Thranduil realized he could not really protest his son's judgment of him, for what he said would more often than not have been undeniably true. He whispered almost to himself, "I am too often as you say. But I am trying to learn from this." He glared halfheartedly at Legolas. "Yes, you did hear me admit I do need to learn still. I did not drug the wine." After a sigh had passed his lips, thin lines, angry with himself, he looked again at his son. "I need to know if you think Gimli can...or maybe will...I need you and Gimli to tell how you came to this friendship. I need you to explain it before our people. Hopefully some will listen. I did."

Legolas thought about this for a moment. Of course, there was no real difficulty in this, except perhaps feelings of personal pride. But one thing he knew for certain was that Gimli rarely felt shy, the presence of Galadriel being a big exception. "I can ask him," he said. He himself - he would be nervous, but it would not be any worse than facing his father had been, and he was used to being watched by their people. "Do I guess right that there will be little to no encouragement during that event from you, and that, on the contrary, there will be tough questions and hard counters to prove that you were not convinced by a weak heart and mind, and others can follow that reasoning?"

A silent minute passed, and then another, while Thranduil dealt with the knowledge that he really had given his son much too harsh an opinion of him—and yet he had in fact given Legolas cause to believe as he did. So Thranduil reached out and touched his son's hand, a very rare gesture. "No. This time I am a father, and I will support my son and his friend, for in my personal and royal judgment, Gimli is innocent. I will tell truly how I felt before, and how I changed. And then I hope you and Gimli and I will cook his fish, and have a nice dinner--and with the grace of the Valar, the people will slowly come around to a new way of thinking." He almost smiled, and felt shifted self-consciously in his chair. "I know it will not be that simple, but even a King can have hope. Or perhaps I did drug the wine." He handed the keys to Gimli's cell to his son. "Ask him to join us? It is not an order, but a humble request. If you comment on my infrequent humility, I will…have it coming."

Once again Legolas was surprised - mildly that Thranduil had actually taken the keys from the guards, but moreso to hear his father speak thus. 'Humble' was a word no one would have used in connection with him, and even less Thranduil himself would have said it. "It seems the times are truly changing."

He took the key and stood and for the first time during this conversation graced his father with a smile. "Then I shall deliver the request." But before he left, when almost at the door, he hesitated once more. "I hope we will be allowed to get dressed again first?"

Now Thranduil looked away and blushed. "Yes. I accept your friendship with Gimli, but I have no desire to see him in his under tunic." He sobered up and admitted, "I would say no, but I replaced the guards with my own, so this meeting would be secret. Yes, both of you, dress. I will wait here."

Without another word Legolas hurried back to the cells, and tried to ignore the guards' looks as much as the guards tried to avoid looking. But their prince in his under tunic down at the dungeons was an unusual sight to be sure, and the dim light even added to the effect. "Would you mind getting our clothes?" he said in that cheerful voice that he had always used far more often than seemed proper. But of course he had already learned to still put his authority in it, and so the order could easily be understood, despite the light phrasing and bare feet. "And hurry, my feet are getting cold."

Fortunately they took the hint, and Legolas waited until they both had disappeared before he threw open the door to the cell. "Great warrior of Thorin's halls, I hope you do not mind if I still fail to share your liking for deep dark places," he said, unable to keep the comment back, blinking in hopes of make his eye adjust to the dim light faster. "How are you doing?"

Gimli had heard his friend's voice from outside, and all but jumped up and down in hope. He wanted his clothes, and he wanted out of this cell. He had not, however, forgotten that he had not been allowed yet to speak. So he whispered, "I may speak? Because if I may, I would say you wimped out on me, laddie, for this cell is not so bad, except for the spiders and other bugs. You would make a deplorable Dwarf."

"That I take as a compliment." Legolas smiled. "And yes, we are quite allowed to talk, and more than allowed to. My father wishes to speak with you, and I daresay in this his thoughts might not be so bad."

At that moment the guards returned with their clothes, and seemingly even more at a loss as to where to look than before. Legolas eased their pain a little by quickly handing Gimli's things to his friend and afterwards grabbing his own. "And now I think you badly need to find a replacement for that almost burnt-out torch over there."

"Yes," mumbled a guard, and yet two in their haste knocked against each other to reach it first, for none of them liked this place, and the whole scene was uncomfortable, and they wanted light, and even more they wanted something to keep them busy. So they fetched three torches, fresh, and lit them and put them in holders, and tried to disown that they had shown lack of grace in colliding with each other. "Is that better, My Lord?" asked the only one who seemed brave enough to venture to speak.

Legolas had used the time of commotion to quickly get back into most of his clothes, even though he had not taken the time to really lace anything yet. Presently he was on the way into his first boot. "Yes, that is much better," he said, and not really meaning the light, even though it was.

Gimli, who had felt more uncomfortable at his lack of proper clothing than anything else except the locked door, had been quickly scrambling into his own clothes, and this was a noisy business, for there were many studs and buckles on his leathers. But finally he was clad sufficiently to feel like a...a disarmed Dwarf in an Elf dungeon. He would have felt his temper rise to the occasion except that he remembered why he was there, and reached up to help do the laces at the back of Legolas' over tunic. In a somewhat subdued voice--for a Dwarf, that is--he said, "Lead on to your father, then, laddie."

Legolas nodded. He was feeling much more comfortable now, the guards were more comfortable now, and Gimli apparently was also. But with the trivialities out of the way the main problem started bearing down with more weight again. Once they arrived at the small room Legolas knocked, and while they waited he quickly added. "Do not be nervous. Father is on our side now." Then he opened the door, but not fully, once Gimli started to talk.

"Do not be nervous?" spluttered Gimli, and wuffled and almost sounded angry, until Legolas' second sentence hit not just his ears, but his brain as well. "WHAT? You say your father is on our side? What pipeweed did you smoke when I was...locked up? Now I am profoundly nervous!" He showed it, too, for he hesitated greatly at the door, until finally Thranduil called from within. "Gimli, son of Gloin, I have four words for you. Bread. Wine. Cheese. ...and Please?"

Legolas was caught in the middle of drawing breath for a comment and an encouragement for his friend. The breath got stuck in his throat, and if he had been surprised earlier, he was even more so now. Yes, Thranduil was known to at times speak like this, times in which it became even clearer whose father he was – but it was so rare! The comment Legolas was about to make turned outwards into a burst of laughter, which Legolas managed to turn into a hearty cough before it could leave his throat.

Gimli's face had frozen on an inhale, which unlike the one Legolas was coughing out now, was silent. He held it for a bit, then he peered into the room, around Legolas, and his bright eyes studied the King of Mirkwood for a few moments until he was satisfied there was no obvious sign of insanity. He cleared his throat, began pounding Legolas on the back, and finally asked, "What kind of cheese?"

Thranduil was shocked, and then he pounded the table with his hand, once. "I see a bit of what my son does in you. Yes, Gimli, enter, and eat, and let us all talk. The cheese is a hearty one, which I actually chose because I thought you might prefer it. If I guessed wrongly, my sincere apologies. Now, help Legolas to his chair and take your own. We do not have all night." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, for he himself had placed the third chair at the table. One of them would have to sit closer to him than the other.

Gimli obeyed and hauled Legolas in and pushed him lightly into the chair next to Thranduil, and pounded a bit more on his back while his father poured him some more wine. When Legolas had taken a drink, he seemed like his breathing might learn to cooperate again, so Gimli took his place and bowed his thanks to the platter Thranduil handed him. He took a sip of the wine, smiled, and said, "I could teach you how to brew an ale if you ever wanted such," and sampled the cheese. "Good choice." However, that was as far as his mood carried him. He quieted down, and said, sincerely, "Thank you, King Thranduil. Now I am ready to learn why you have asked to speak to me. Whatever judgment you pronounce, I will not fight it."

Legolas, who had now recovered from the coughing fit, if not from Gimli's pounding on his back, and had regained some of his breath, shortly touched his friend's arm. Gimli seemed less nervous than he would have expected, but Legolas still knew that he could use some comfort. "It is not a judgment, Gimli. It is a suggestion."

Thranduil was again deploring his inability to fidget discreetly, which meant he had to forgo any show of nervous activity. "Yes. You see, Gimli, I went myself to see the place of the accident," and he gave the Dwarf a glance to show him that he had indeed called it an accident, not a murder. "All I found were the fish. The evidence to clear you easily was washed away by untimely rain, and so what was left will circumstantially either damn you or clear you--entirely depending upon the whim of whoever hears the evidence. In short, your freedom depends upon two things, and the first is the better one. You can either convince the Elves of Mirkwood that you are a good, er, Dwarf. Or I can give you freedom by pronouncement, even if I must go against the wishes of my people. I would rather they saw a new way of looking at Dwarves, and you are the one elected to make them do it. But, I give you my word before my son as witness, I will find you innocent of crime if the Elves prove too thick headed. Can you convince them?"

"We must," Legolas quickly said, not sure why he did, for to him the necessity was clear. "When I think about it, that was part of the reason why we came here. Except that I had hoped it would all go a little more...smoothly."

Gimli suppressed a whuffle, and chewed thoughtfully on his bread. As Elf bread went, it was fairly good, although it lacked a certain heartiness. But now was not the time to get into culinary differences. "Aye, the time here has not gone so smoothly, Legolas." The Dwarf very nearly used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth after taking a drink of the wine, stopping the motion to reach for the fine linen napkin provided. "If I can adapt my table manners, and still notch my belt on the same hole as before I came to this realm, it proves I can change. I will do my best, with the help of Legolas, to thin the skulls of any willing Elves. Er, that is, King, I will help as you ask." He cocked his eyes to one side, a little sadly, and yet with a warmth that was genuine. "You believe me? I admit, this startles me. Tell me, King: would you have believed me if you had not found the fish?"

Thranduil now let his thumbs play a game where they chased each other in circles as his hands were clasped together on the tabletop. "To be honest, I do not know. I like to think the answer is yes, but I am still a bit on the thick headed side, with plenty around to keep my opinion of Dwarves to be what I now consider foolishly outdated. So I think my answer is yes." He leaned forward suddenly, and gave Gimli a sparkling-eyed look few saw, for few knew the King had a passion for fishing. "Those were fine fish, too, and I would like to know how you caught them so quickly, for I know that river does not yield readily. I hope you can teach me how you did it." And then he blushed only slightly, for he had learned to keep much of a blush at bay if he felt it necessary. "What swayed me to believe you was your manner, and having spoken with you and Legolas earlier. I listened. It is my hope that our people will listen too. Some will not, but if enough do, I believe my verdict will not be the true victory when you next stand before the assemblage."

Legolas had been listening quietly, and he had thought much. Of course, the common thought was always that the important thing was to convince Thranduil. His will ruled in Mirkwood and had done so for millennia. But even a strong King could not go directly against the will of the people, especially not in a case like this. Too much emotion about the death of one of their kind was tied to it. "The verdict...if they are not swayed, then the verdict might cause unrest."

"I hope enough are swayed." Thranduil inhaled an enormous breath, and let it out rather suddenly in a kind of self-conscious laugh. "I cannot even believe I am here, having a conversation in my dungeon, with my son and his Dwarf friend!" He smiled sadly at Legolas, then at Gimli. "I treated you both so badly at first. I apologize." Then he smiled with a bit more mischief behind it, and hope. "If the stubborn King of Mirkwood can listen to a Dwarf, why not the people he rules? For now, is there anything you need? I must leave you down here until I call for you officially--although not in your cells. You may as well use this one, with the door open or closed, however you prefer, but not locked. I will see light is provided." Thranduil had stopped fidgeting. "I only hope the Elves do not demand some form of retribution, as is their right in even an accidental death."

"If they demand that, then I shall give it to them," Legolas said firmly. He was so focused on the necessity to get through the assembly, and the possible consequences that he hardly had time left to worry about having to stay down here much longer - one night at least, for the assembly took time to prepare, and even without the moon to mark the passage of time he knew the night was waning. "I can assume responsibility for what happened, as I am the one who invited Gimli here."

Thranduil almost corrected Legolas, only holding back at the last moment. It gave his son hope. But the people would not allow Legolas to take the responsibility for his guest—and not just because that guest was Dwarven. Even if enough were convinced, it was still possible that some kind of punishment would need to be doled out. Thranduil was worried.

He gained his feet, and pointed to the two cots against the wall. "Sleep a little. Morning is in a few hours, and the call for you will come as soon after that as I can arrange it, to give less time for tempers to become heated." He looked more worried then than he wished to, and murmured, "I know we will all do our best."

Legolas stood when Thranduil did, and now he nodded, and tried not to look nervous or uncomfortable. A few hours; that was a long time for being stuck in the dungeon with little but worries to think about. He doubted he would be able to sleep, but would try anyway, if only to humor Gimli. He bowed. "Good night, my father."

Thranduil patted Legolas on the arm, then impulsively pulled him into a father's embrace. "Good night, Son."

Gimli bowed deeply, and said in a small voice for a Dwarf, "Thank you, King. I am grateful you believe me, but even more glad to see how you and Legolas are getting along now. It warms my heart."

Thranduil nodded, and bowed to Gimli in return, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I never thought to hear these words pass my lips, but I am glad you came here, brave Gimli. I know it has been trial-some, but times do not change without trial." He signaled to a guard then, who came just barely into the room.

"Sire?"

"Give them what they ask for. Treat them well. Gimli is under my protection now; see no harm comes to him. Spread this command to the other guards as well." With that he left the guardroom and slowly climbed back up to his rooms, hoping that the morrow would see the beginnings of great changes among his people.

In the small guard's room Legolas remained standing where he was for a while, looking at the door and pondering whether he should close it for privacy or leave it open for…comfort. He decided to leave what decision to Gimli and not do anything about it. "I am sorry I got you into this," he said while sitting down at the table again and reaching for the wine. "If I had known the implications, I would have been more careful about how to do it. But whatever happens tomorrow, I will be there, and nothing will befall you that I will not take on myself as well."

"Laddie," said Gimli, as he took the steps to stand beside Legolas, and grasped his arm in the way of comrades. "If...if punishment is called for, and I could not blame anyone if it is, for an Elf lost his life needlessly, you may stand with me, but I will take whatever is called for on my own." He went to the door then, and pushed it all but a foot's width closed before returning to the table. After a moment, he chose Thranduil's vacated seat, for it faced the door, and he was not comfortable keeping it to his back. "Friend, you did not get me into anything," he finally continued. "I learned something. I keep trying to prove my superiority to ye, when in my heart I have known all along that it is equality I should be content with." He lowered his head and stared at the tabletop.

Somehow Gimli's words made Legolas smile. He had that talent, even though this time there was no jesting remark, no answer concerning differences in skills or manner, nothing of that kind. Just a smile. "We were playing games all along, behaving like children. But I shall not complain about that, for I enjoyed that as much as anything." It might have been that the gaze of elf and Dwarf met at the same spot on the table top, but they would never know that. "You should sleep, get some rest before tomorrow."

Gimli looked up, and a friendship glint was in his dark eyes. "I will if you will."

"I do not need to," Legolas said, but in the end they both lay down on the cots, and if sleep did not come, then they at least pretended.

tbc.


	8. Chapter 8

**Decision, Chapter 8:**

Thranduil of Mirkwood was, in cases of formal Trials, expected to look every inch the King of Mirkwood, from his mithril circlet--the fancy one--to his polished leather boots, and everything in between. Only his dresser knew that he had bathed with the costliest and rarest of soaps, used the hair wash he did not even like, and the skin lotion he liked even less. He even had the hairdresser he usually chased away braid his hair into a pattern that would be difficult to undo once the occasion for all this fussing was over with.

His robes were green, pearlescent white, silver, and gold, and thank the Valar comfortable, except for the metal belt with the intricate chainwork hanging from it at his waist. And the jewelry. Thranduil loved jewels, unset. But that was a far cry from loving to wear the heavy brooches and armbands and rings he now found himself glaring at. His dresser had even polished them carefully after they were put on him, to remove any fingerprints. He felt encased in garb just for show, and the worst part was that he could not fidget at all, even tap his feet, because everyone would see it if he did it.

All this infernal fuss with his appearance had gone on after Thranduil had signed all the documents and made all the decrees to get everything set up for the formal session to commence promptly 2 hours past the noon peak of the sun. Normally something this solemn would be held in the evening and take all night. But given the circumstances, Thranduil was a little worried that it might last that long even if it started at two hours past noon. So he had rushed things.

He had also sent food and fresh clothes down to Legolas and Gimli, and suggested strongly that bathing and grooming would be wise, and told them in his note what time things would happen, and knew that Legolas would already tell Gimli the general order by adding the phrase, "all the infernal trimmings". Infernal, fumed Thranduil, seemed to be his word for the day. In truth, he was worried how this would go.

At precisely two hours past the noon sun, Thranduil realized another thing: the robes were heavy. He dragged them gracefully into the main hall, where everyone who had to attend was sitting on chairs around a circular raised platform, at the head of which was Thranduil's throne, freshly polished, with new trees put on either side. He almost snarled at the trees, for they had even had their leaves polished. Why did everything have to shine so much just to have a trial where hopefully his people would spend their mental energy listening to what was said rather than gawking at all the new glitter everywhere?

He took his chair, after accepting the bows of the nobles and those who would help conduct the assembly. It was tricky to sit so that those chains on the belt fell just right-- if they fell wrong, they outlined his, well, more private area, and that was not what he wanted, so he had to make sure his layers of tunics fell just right as well. He finally tweaked them--gracefully, of course, and everything cooperated nicely. He hoped this was a portent.

Silence held for the expected two minutes, and then he called out, "Let the prisoner and hostile witness be brought forth."

The heavy doors swung open, reveiling the five elves and one dwarf, who apparently - not only apparently but actually - had been waiting in this formation for several minutes at least. First Gimli, and then, several steps behind, Legolas entered the hall, both flanked by two guards. Much effort had gone into trying to make the Dwarf's appearance look agreeable to the Elven eye. He wore simple garb, rather light compared to his usual travel outfit, and of course no mail, his hair and beard were carefully washed and combed - something that not even Legolas had been allowed to help with, and even braided in places.

Legolas himself looked every inch the prince he was, even without jewellery, heavy robes, or his ceremonial dagger. His tunic and boots were of the best quality, and of the same colour as Thranduil's, and his hair braided in the traditional style, even if in a more modest way. That had been the idea, to display his status, but also some modestly.

The moment the first two guards with Gimlil reached the point where they stopped in front of the dais, the others stopped as well, so that Legolas was now standing in the middle of the room. They all bowed, after which the guards withdrew several steps.

Now the protocol asked that they both stayed where they were, quiet until spoken to - and Legolas should wait until called forward. This he did for a long enough moment to show that he knew of the rules and therefore fully understood what he was doing when he bowed once more, this time first to Thranduil and then the whole assembly before closing the distance between himself and Gimli with slow but deliberate steps, until he stood right next to his friend - but only for a moment, for then he went down on one knee and stayed there.

Gimli felt all the ponderous weight of this ceremony as he stepped into the huge chamber and followed the procedures until he was up on the dais, and had bowed to King Thranduil. He was startled deeply when Legolas moved over toward him and went down on one knee. "Get up, Lad! Ye canna get as short as me--oh!" He grew red in the face from embarrassment and went down on one knee too. "Your majesty," he said, bowing his head again, and wishing he were back in the dungeon.

Thranduil counted to twenty, silently, and then counted again after Gimli broke the silence and three elves gasped and broke it as well. He sent each of them a slow glance, only to see the tops of three heads, which meant his slow glance had to be held long enough for them to look up and see it. Luckily they did before he got all the way to twenty in his counting, which he had to extend a little anyway, since the third elf had taken a bit long in looking up, only to look back down right away after he saw that the King had scolded him for gasping.

Only then did he stand and approach both Gimli and Legolas. He had to admit his son looked very much the prince, very regal and handsome. Gimli looked...looked like a cleaned up and not so heavily dressed Dwarf, and Thranduil found himself actually wishing Gimli still looked as Gimli as ever, although he realized that this was for the people's benefit. "Rise, Gimli son of Gloin of the race of Dwarves." Why did ceremonies call for things so obvious to nevertheless still be stated? "Rise Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood and friend of Gimli" He waited until they had obeyed, and then turned to the Master of Ceremonies. "Please read the charges against the Dwarf, Gimli."

Legolas made sure that he rose not a moment to soon nor too late and stood tall without seeming arrogant or overly confident. In a setting like this where opinions counted, appearances could turn the tide. He had always smiled and laughed about all the demands and rituals and flashy habits of court life, found it a terrible bore as a child and a nuisance later, but now he was glad that he had learned all the subtleties of how to impress. Thus, nearly every breathe he took was carefully planned and thought through.

He hardly listened to the carefully worded charges - little more than short summary of the previous day's events, for he knew the only important part would be the final few sentences. "... and therefore after careful examination of the evidence and accounts of all that are involved shall determine the truth, guilt or innocense, and pass a just judgement."

There is was. Why did that last sentence never change? Every squirrel in Mirkwood should know it by heart by now. Legolas took a deep breath. And so it began. Gimli would be the first to be questioned, and Legolas hoped that what little instructions and advice concerning the procedures he had been able to give would be enough. What question was to be asked first, however, he did not know.

Thranduil raised a hand and stated formally, "I will declare the sentence in this case." He did not always, for sometimes it was almost a vote. But matters of this importance, he reserved for himself. He turned back to the throne, and realized with a muttered "infernal" that he would have to tweak his robes and hope the belt chain cooperated when he sat down again. He did so, and nothing cooperated, so he broke with tradition and rearranged his tunics until he was satisfied, and then gazed long at Gimli. In a voice as neutral as a windless day with only moderate sunshine, he asked, "Tell us what happened."

Gimli did so, noting without interest that the record keeper from the previous day was keeping track of every point, while another was quickly scribbling every word he said today. When he had finished, he added, "And that is my account, King of Mirkwood."

Thranduil looked over at the record keeper, who officially nodded, indicating that the story told this time deviated not from what had been said yesterday. So Thranduil himself stated the evidence he had seen as he had gone to the scene of the accident. None could fault what he said, for the other two witnesses were there as well. They corroborated, and fell silent again. Now was the heart of the matter. "Gimli, the evidence is unclear, and so I will ask you some questions. The first one is, Do you like Elves?"

Gimli had listened patient as a Dwarf could be, which was actually quite patient. He knew this would be tedious, but where a life lost was involved, he was quite willing to endure any tedium out of respect. And he knew Legolas was going to speak up in his defense, whether he should or not. He did not know what to make of King Thranduil yet, so he simply listened to everything said, and the question asked, and knew it was important he answer fully truthfully. "King Thranduil, had ye asked me that question months back, I would have answered, Nay, I have no love of ye pointy-eared lofty...persons who don't even brew a half-decent ale." It was true, too, as even Legolas knew. "But after seeing Prince Legolas and how he conducted himself in difficult situations, and at first enduring him, then coming to realize I could depend on him, I began to admire him. It was no easy thing! Dwarves are as ingrained against Elves as the reverse is. And what I found reasonable before and was taught since my childhood, I now feel sad about, for it does two races much harm." He paused and sighed deeply, and answered finally. "I like anyone from any good race who isn't so steeped in prejudicial doctrine that they won't like anyone but the ones they are supposed to. So, no, I don't like all Elves, but I don't dislike all Elves either."

"And there were times when our people were not as estranged." Legolas spoke up then fully aware that he was pushing the boundaries of proper behaviour. He knew that he was neither being asked, nor did his words add any new information concerning the death of the guard, but this case would not only be decided on fact, but also to a great part on emotions. Legolas knew how to influence those. "There were times when we not only respected each other, but learned from each other and worked together. The gate of Moria through which we passed during the quest was not built by one Dwarf or one Elf. Neither could have built it alone. And in ages past, were not these very hall originally created by our Dwarven friends?"

Here he paused to give the information time to sink in. And after letting his gaze drift around the room like in challenge of anyone wanting to meet his eye and contradict him he looked back at Gimli. Had his friend known about this detail in history that had been glossed over for so long that it was almost forgotten? "If someone asked me now whether I liked Dwarves I could not honestly answer 'yes'. But I like one Dwarf, and I know him, and I trust him. If the past two years have taught me anything it is to open my eyes and see, and to judge for myself."

Thranduil let his people murmur amongst themselves for only a half minute before letting everyone know to quiet even the softest of words spoken here and there. He had heard enough to know that both Gimli's and Legolas's words had been heard, and made impact; Whether for good or for bad would have to be seen. "I will speak from my own heart, as our guest and also my Son have." It was purposefully that he did not refer to Gimli as 'the prisoner', for in his mind, it was formality only that he was one.

Thranduil's blue gaze traveled around the hall, stopping to fasten on seemingly random faces, but he kept the individuals equally divided between those most against Dwarves, those most inclined to treat them well, and those very large group who only sought some guidance on what to think. He finally said, "It is much my fault that this rift between two peoples has widened to the degree it has. I know, there is cause on both sides, and it has been perpetuated long, for we are both long-memoried peoples, and take slights and tempers to heart." He had grown visibly approachable as he spoke, while retaining his posture and stance. But few times in memory had he been as he now was before his assembled Elves. "And there was the Menegroth affair." Instantly there were nods and murmurs, and Thranduil glanced quickly at Gimli, to see him looking down at his toes. "But that was long ago." His voice carried with the strength to quiet all. "And this Dwarf was not part of what happened then, any more than any of his kind are. Do I want myself judged by what my forefathers did for ill? Or do I wish to be judged by my own actions?" Again he sought out the gaze of various Elves, balancing his selection and the beliefs held. "I have been a hypocrit. For I have judged others, while demanding not to be judged."

He looked at Legolas then, and asked, "How did you and Gimli befriend each other?"

Legolas thought about it, and it was a difficult question that didn't have a simple answer. It did not have to either, he realized, as long as it was effective. "There was a night when we were hunted by wolves, for hours we heard their voices on the wind, before they finally caught up and we had to fight. We may not have stopped hating each other that night, but we stopped arguing. There were more important things to do than making up new insults. After that, it was gradual. Once the petty disputed were stopped there was room to simply watch, and finally see. When you have to rely on someone with your life, and see his valor time and time again it is hard to hold on to grudges that you never had a reason for in the first place. In Lorien I started to finally really learn, we talked and my perception was changed. Until one day on the plains of Rohan I was fully ready to kill a man if he raised a finger against my friend. That is what he has been ever since: a friend, and a true companion."

Thranduil let this sink in as well, and then asked a vital question. "Do you believe it is possible that Gimli committed murder in Mirkwood, felling an Elf out of hatred or anger?"

"No." Legolas answered his voice even more clear and distinct than it had been before. "Not unless it was in defense of his life, and even then I would have my doubt."

Thranduil turned to Gimli then. "Gimli, were you defending your life?"

Very quietly, Gimli answered, "No, King, I was not."

"Then was it truly an accident?"

"Aye, King, that it was. And I would rather it have been me who died than an Elf of my friend's kind. I will accept your judgment and abide by it, knowing I did no wrong except to let pride send me fishing when I should have been helping build a campfire."

And now there came a pause, and Thranduil looked around at the people. "Elves, what say you? Shall I pass judgment?"

And the murmuring started up slow and then rose, until the single word "Yes" was heard, picked up first by a few and then by many. And Thranduil was heartened to hear much less hatred than he had heard before. It was more of a statement, an answer to the question than a judgment in itself.

"Then I shall do so." Thranduil looked at Gimli, not at Legolas. "Step forward, Gimli son of Gloin, and receive the judgment of the King of Mirkwood, upon the question of your guilt or innocence of the crime of murder."

Legolas held his breathe but refrained from making any move. In this moment, he could not help his friend. Gimli stepped forward, and looked up at the King, his face passive, accepting. He expected the worst.

Thranduil took up his sword, and held it high. "So say I, and so the judgment is. Gimli, of the Dwarven race, I find you guilty of fishing, not murder. Legolas, send for Gimli's clothes, and let this entire affair teach us all something important." The sword was lowered and put back in its ceremonial sheath.

Gimli dropped to his knees and put his face in his hands and wept.


End file.
